The Story of Nal ban'Dian
by Incomplet
Summary: Shai'tan has all but won, when the Wheel is turned back by a channeler known as Nal ban'Dian. AU, with OC.
1. Chapter 1

THE END

Darkness. All-encompassing, shrouding the earth and the sky. Extinguishing life, muting sound, swallowing light.

Only the Hall of Servants remained standing, its floor littered with bodies.

Within, the Forsaken circled around the Dragon, awaiting their Great Lord's pronouncement.

Rand al'Thor cried. From the depths of his heart came tears of anguish, for all that was lost. He cried for Emond's Field, for the Ogier groves, and for Rhuidean. For Lan and Moiraine. For Mat and Perrin. For Min and Avienda. But most of all for Elayne, for Ilyena. She was smiling at him, not three paces away, her eyes glazed over in death. He could not stand the beauty that had perished, the pain like an icy knife tearing at him from the inside, worse than the touch of Semirhage. Once more, Rand al'Thor reached for _saidin_. Only emptiness was there. The Creator had deserted him.

A door opened into the Hall, a door Rand could not remember being there, though memories from an Age long past stirred in the recesses of his mind. Through the door stepped a wizened old man, garbed in a hooded grey robe, hunched over with age. The man's wrinkled hands gripped a gnarled wooden cane that could have been older the man himself. On one finger he bore a plain white ring, as smooth as the cane was gnarled.

_"NO!"_ Rand tried to yell, his mouth moving soundlessly, as if the stifling darkness had already engulfed the Hall. "_It's useless! They'll butcher you too, like they've done with everyone else. Get away!" _Despite the countless deaths that he had witnessed, he could not bear to see yet another soul succumb to the Dark One's will. But he, no, the World, had lost; all that was left was anguish, and regret. Silent tears mixed with blood, as the Dragon Reborn lay crumpled in defeat on the floor of the Hall of Servants.

Unspoken warning unheeded, the old man continued towards him, one hand on his cane, the other rising, as if to reach ahead.

The Forsaken had noticed the man. Demandred, his face a twisted sneer of arrogance and hatred, spat: "Who is this? Another Asha'man to kill before we finish off Lews Therin? Don't they know it's over for them?"

The old man stopped eight paces from where Rand lay, opposite the Forsaken, and stated simply "I am Nal ban'Dian." He spoke slowly and softly, his voice filled with a great weariness, as if he had lived his long life with a great burden that only became heavier with the countless passing of the years. But the man's crinkled green eyes shone brightly, and as he spoke the sound carried clearly through the Hall. He began again:

"Perhaps you remember me, Barid. I remember when we all stood together in this Hall, as Servants of All. I remember when Nemene Healed me after the ill-fated _sa'angreal_ Experiment went disastrously wrong. I remember when Joar and Saine first discovered the use of Portal Stones, at Mar d'Alta. And I remember when Mierin found the True Source, at Collam Dar."

As the man spoke, the events of an Age past played again in Rand's mind, as if he had just lived them, anew. The Forsaken were frozen in place, their eyes locked on the ancient speaker, whose ring now gave off a soft white glow. The man continued, more strongly:

"We had built the greatest society of any Age. With the Power, we had achieved what many thought impossible, what even the Creator would admire. But you chose to betray us. Perhaps we had grown arrogant in our own power and wealth, and let the Lord of the Dark sway our ambitions. In our weakness, the world was Broken, and much was lost."

The air was still and the Hall utterly silent as the old man paused again. Sweat ran down the Forsaken's faces, but not one moved a hair. The man stood tall, and a look of terrible intensity painted his now ageless features. His voice quieted to a conspiratorial whisper:

"But you see, the Age of Legends never truly ended. Then, I was a maker of _ter'angreal_, and other objects of the Power. For three thousand years, I have continued the progress that we had begun. And now the time is come that I reveal to you the fruits of my labor."

Suddenly, Rand felt the One Power surge in the room. The man's ring shone brightly, then blindingly, as if it were the sun itself, piercing the clouds of darkness. Everywhere, weaves of _saidin_ and what must have been _saidar_ spun in intricate patterns that seemed to form even greater patterns which themselves were only pieces of the Pattern itself. Rand felt like a leaf caught in a storm, carried along by flows of the Power. Somewhere distant, a voice raged, howling with the infernal fury that could only be Shai'tan.

Time lost all meaning. Seconds, years, or Ages became indistinguishable. But finally the light dimmed and the Power faded...


	2. Chapter 2

NEW BEGINNING

Rand found himself lying on a grassy field, shaded from the warm afternoon sun by a large oak tree whose leaves rustled in a gentle breeze. Someone nearby was softly whistling a tune that sounded strangely familiar, but Rand couldn't remember where he had heard it. In fact, he couldn't remember much besides his own name, and the face of a pretty golden-haired girl.

Rand's thoughts were interrupted by an old man's voice. "You hungry, boy? I've got some delicious beef stew here, and wouldn't mind finishing it all unless you want some."

Rand stared at the old man blankly, his mind not yet functioning properly. The man's crinkled face broke into a smile. "Don't worry about me, boy, I can make more stew in a jiffy. To be honest, you look hungry enough to eat all that's left twice over, so I'll be making some more anyways."

"Where am I?" Rand finally managed to ask.

"Where are we, you say? We are somewhere on the Plains of Maredo, that's where we are. You know, I wasn't born far from here, and of all places, this one has changed the least since then. By the way, you should eat your stew before you spill any more on yourself."

Rand looked down to see a bowl of stew sitting precariously on his belly, and a spoon dangling out of his right hand. The dark steamy broth smelled delicious, reminding him of the hunger gnawing at his stomach. He dug in without another moment's thought.

As Rand ate, the man continued whistling the oddly-familiar tune, which somehow blended perfectly with the rustling of the grass and leaves. The verdant grass stretched out in front of him, as far as the eye could see. White puffs of clouds floated above, their patterns in the sky mirrored on the ground by shadows that slowly rolled across the plains.

Somehow, the bowl never seemed to empty, until Rand finally decided that he was full. He placed it on the soft grass beside him, and with a satisfied sigh settled back against the incline of the tree's trunk. The pleasant sounds, comfortable warmth, and a feeling of fullness seemed to permeate his whole body. Soon, he was drifting off to sleep, more relaxed and content than he had ever remembered being.


	3. Chapter 3

THE PAST

Rand awoke in a plain but comfortable bed. Light peeked through the drawn curtains, allowing him to sit up and look around. The room was small, but managed to fit a bookshelf, desk and chair alongside the bed without being cluttered. Thick tomes lined the shelves, while the desk was clear. On the chair were his clothes, neatly folded.

After dressing himself, Rand pulled the curtains back, letting sunlight stream in through the window. Squinting, he looked outside. Rolling plains of grass stretched out before him, as far as he could see. A lone tree stood upon the plains, casting little shadow. It was already close to noon.

Rand opened the lone door in his chamber to find a slightly larger room, empty save for a small square table with two chairs at opposite ends. He walked out and sat down in one of the chairs, as if waiting for someone.

Without warning, memories flooded back to him. Emond's Field. Matt and Perrin. Egwene and Min. Moiraine and Lan. Shadowspawn. The Aes Sedai. Elayne. The Aiel and the Seanchan. The Forsaken. The seals. Tarmon Gaidon. The Hall of Servants. And the old man, who now sat across from him at the table, drinking tea.

Rand finally spoke, uttering only two words. "We lost." His face bore the peculiar combination of despair and puzzlement.

"Just about," replied the man.

"But now I'm here," Rand stated.

"Yes, you are." The was a twinkle in the man's eyes, and the hint of a smile on his face.

"Where's here?"

"Plains of Maredo. But that's the wrong question to be asking."

Rand's frown deepened. "How, then?"

"It all begins a long time ago, in another Age. It will not be a short tale, but one I think you should hear. Have some tea."

Rand looked down to find mug mug of steaming liquid on the table. He inhaled deeply; it somehow smelled both dark and lively and the same time. The old man cleared his throat and gazed past Rand, a look a reminiscence in his eyes.

"Let us begin with the end of an Age. During the War of Power, I played my part not as a Companion, for fighting was no Talent of mine, but in the production of _angreal_, the true weapons of the War. That was my true Talent, crafting with the Power. It was my fascination, my obsession. At first, I even viewed the War as a mere annoyance, for it required me to spend my time producing simple _angreal_, when I would rather have been studying the mysteries of the _ter'angreal._ Perhaps that is a sign of how arrogant we had become, so sure of our own might that the Dark One was simply a curiosity. We were fortunate for Lews Therin, the first to understand the danger of the Bore, and the one to lead us against forces of Darkness."

"Some day I will tell you of the War; that is a story in of itself. But let us skip past to its end, with the creation of the Seal. We had won, or so we thought. Another victory for the Aes Sedai, for the Age of Legends. None foresaw the Dark Lord's counterstroke. Who could conceive of the taint, on _saidin_ itself? It was a brilliant move, driving every male channeler up to Lews Therin, the Dragon himself, insane. All but one. I alone survived the madness, which Broke the World and ended of the Age of Legends."

"How is that possible? The taint..." Rand shuddered involuntarily. The old took a long drink from his tea before answering:

"It was my _ter'angreal_ which saved me. In fact, I have never truly touched the taint at all. Before the War, I conducted research into the nature of channeling itself. How is it that one draws from _saidin_ and _saidar_? Why are only some men and women channelers, while others are not? What are the limits of our use of the Power? Such were the questions which I asked myself. What I did know was how _angreal_ and _sa'angreal_ function to augment the flow through a channeler. Years I spent, studying, experimenting, and crafting. Finally, I was able to achieve my goal: a _ter'angreal_ that could forge a direct link to _saidin_. To my peers, it looked like a pathetic _angreal_, for the trickle of the Power that it could carry was scarcely noticeable. At the time, I thought that my creation would function for any man, allowing even non-channelers to feel the flow of _saidin._ That would have impressed my colleagues, or perhaps frightened them. But the two men who did try died instantly, and then the War ended my research."

"I remember clearly the day we realized what the Lord of the Dark had done. A good friend of mine, 'Rafa' as he was known, was the first to tell me that _saidin_ felt odd. He was young and handsome, and liked by all around him. He had a beautiful wife and two children, a son and a daughter. Even among the Aes Sedai, I had few friends and kept mostly to myself. Most thought what I did a waste of time, and my weakness in the Power gave me low standing, but Rafa was a true friend. He may have been the only one to share my curiosity for the true nature of the Power, and to understand my methods of research. He was also among the first to succumb to the madness."

The old man stopped, his eyes filled with tears. In that moment, Rand could picture a young man, strong of arm and dark of skin. His eyes were black, as was his curly hair, and he bore a warm smile. A single tear trickled down Rand's cheek, for what was lost.

"I then let myself feel _saidin_, and could feel the taint upon it, like a rancid layer of oil. Instantly I withdrew, already fearing the worst. Only when I was alone in my study did I again attempt to reach for _sadin_, this time through my _ter'angreal_, the one connected directly to the Power. Despite my worst fears, a trickle of s_aidin_ came through, untainted."

"It was a strange moment. The War should have been over, the Lord of the Dark sealed away forever, and yet His hand was still clearly at work in our world. With the success of my _ter'angreal,_ I wanted to feel relief that I had foiled the Dark One's will, and yet I dreaded what would come next."

"I also had the burden of choice upon me, as to whether I would reveal my _ter'angreal_ to the Hall. My decision was to wait until I had produced more of them. Only one would be of little use to the Hall, or so I reasoned."

"I then spent every waking minute toiling away. Crafting was unbearable slow, with only the trickle of pure _saidin_ that came through my lone _ter'angreal_. Meanwhile, the Aes Sedai turned to their only savior to cure _saidin_ of the Dark One's taint. But Lews Therin never succeeded. I, too, failed, for my second _ter'angreal_ brought only tainted _saidin_. By then, the male Aes Sedai were starting to panic, what I later knew to be the beginnings of madness. It was clear then that I could not reveal my _ter'angreal_, for who knew what men desperate for untainted _saidin_ would do if they learned of it. I was the only one who had any hope of crafting another of the devices, but it would take time."

"But time was working against me. It was not long until the first men went truly mad. These were Aes Sedai, men of power and responsibility, who had won the War, and were respected by all. The taint reduced them all to lunacy, as if what they once were no longer mattered. That was when the fear truly took root among us. Men already subject to the taint now knew where it would lead, knew that they too would lose all sanity and dignity. No doubt the fear itself drove some insane even before the taint."

"I could see what would unfold, as the Dark One must have planned all along. The Aes Sedai were turning on each other, man against woman, madman against madman. Despite the ensuing chaos, I was able to hide away in an abandoned _stedding_, the only place where it could be safe."

"The rest, you yourself know. There was the Time of Madness, and the Breaking of the World. The end of an Age."

The man paused. His voice had become strained, and his eyes bore a pained look.

"So long ago, this was, and yet I still think to myself, that if only I had been more skilled, and had worked more diligently, or realized what was to come, then maybe I could have saved us all. Perhaps I should have revealed my _ter'angreal_ to the Hall, or given it directly to Lews Therin... but I do not know how that would have turned out. No, what's past is past, and cannot be undone."


End file.
